AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Kingsley:At least drink water and tell me you’re all right.
My broken heart squeezes and I wish I could reach inside my chest and kill that jerk. The stupid organ that I thought I neutralized long ago is up and running and not even pretending to be on my side anymore.
One gentle text from the asshole and it’s beating like crazy.
The true man wants two things—danger and play. For that reason, he wants women as the most dangerous plaything.
Nietzsche’s words slip into my consciousness, translating everything I feel about this situation. I don’t want to be a plaything.
Not even Kingsley’s.
You know what? I’m not going to keep this bottled up inside.
Sitting up in bed, I sniffle and type.
Aspen:Remember that night twenty-one years ago?
His reply is immediate.
Kingsley:Of course. It was the night Gwen was conceived.
Aspen:Aside from that, what did it mean to you?
Kingsley:It was the first time I met you.
Aspen:No, that was the first time you met the old version of me. The bruised, traumatized but still trying to be strong version. The version who still longed to be accepted deep down in her naïve heart. She was the Aspen who lied about her age, got drunk for courage, and wanted you with all her little girl hormones. But she was broken by relatives, an early teen pregnancy, and holding her stillborn baby when she was barely fifteen.
Kingsley:Are you blaming me for not being there?
Aspen:No, I’m blaming myself for wanting you to be there. For searching for you and yearning for your company when you were nothing more than a stranger. I thought if I’d had you, I could’ve protected my child and had a healthier pregnancy. I fell into the Cinderella complex that I often chastised Callie about, and it was downright pathetic. Losing my baby gave me the slap in the face and wake-up call I needed badly. I burned everything I had of you, of the old Aspen and her naïve feelings and little dreams. So the real Aspen is the woman you met seven years ago in court, trying to rip you and your client a new one. That’s the only Aspen that exists, Kingsley. I refuse to spiral back into the old, pathetic Aspen.
Kingsley:I’m coming over.
Aspen:No, don’t.
Kingsley:This isn’t a conversation we should be having over texts.
Aspen:This is exactly how I want it, so if you have anything to say, do it this way.
I don’t think I could control myself, be strong enough, or have the right assertiveness to push him away if he were here in person.
He rattles me so much that it’s impossible to think straight while I’m with him.
Kingsley:First of all, the old Aspen wasn’t pathetic. She was a bit naïve, yes, young and lost, also yes. But she was a brave survivor, too, so I forbid you to talk shit about her. Second of all, there is no real Aspen. The woman I met seven years ago was as smart and hot as the devil, but she was empty, too. She’s not the woman who drives me fucking insane by merely existing.
A tingle starts in my chest and spreads all over my body, and I hate it. I hate how a few words from him are able to break me and tear me apart in such a short time.
Aspen:You’re saying that to get in my pants.
Kingsley:I can get in your pants without saying that, sweetheart.
Aspen:So I’m just your warm hole who’s good at spreading my legs?
Kingsley:You have warm holes. Plural. And I love when you spread your legs, but we both know you’re way more than that.
My fingers shake as I spill my bitter vulnerability on the keyboard.
Aspen:Maybe I don’t know.
